The Wise Wolf
by EverlynStark
Summary: What if Arya didn't exist? It was Eliana instead. Eliana Stark, the eldest daughter of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully, also known as the Wise Wolf. Would she survive the wars? And whose life would she change? *Please, Arya is my homie, okay?* I didn't read the books to be honest, but welcome to my world. Rated T in case. Probably Sansa/Sandor OC/OC
1. Game of Thrones POV 1

Eliana Stark - Game of Thrones POVs

Chapter 6 Eliana

A quick swift sound, she heard, as the mahogany arrow flew over the beautifully selvedged flak and vanished in the dense woods. A roar of laughters arose from her older brothers, as the younger boy put down the rosewood bow onto the ground and smiled sheepishly. Hypocrites, she thought and chuckled, neither of them were able to even handle a bow at Bran's age.

Eli has always enjoyed watching the boys combat and practicing archery with her baby brother, Rickon, nestling in her arms. _Well, maybe except the time with the obnoxious prince around trying to picking a fight_. _He was no match to Robb anyways_. "They would make great soldiers someday," praised the black smith. Why would they become _those tiny fighters _while they could be kings, right hand commanders and **warriors**? She scolded but smiled stupidly at the last thought. Definitely warriors, courageous and chivalrous warriors. They fought for the truth and brought justice to all, but soldiers were wallflowers in those graceful songs, only exquisite to the ears.

Eli has dreamt of being one. She dreamt of riding a gorgeous war horse onto the Battlefield, with her father's blazing sword and in her silver green armor. "A high-born lady should never be seen wearing an armor," rebuked her lady mother, "only gowns were allowed." However,her lord father would compromise with her. "You will be," he chuckled and said, "a warrior of wilderness, just like your Aunt Lyanna." She loved hearing about her mysterious aunt. Lyanna was wild and ambitious, her father told her. She was talented with combat skills and fought bravely during the Rebellion of the Baratheons. Unfortunately, she was an ill-fated beauty and deceased at the age of sixteen. "I see," Eli replied playfully, "three years to go and I will be buried under the old dull grave." But only recieved an unapproving grief glance of her father.

She has always been compared to her aunt. The folks said she looked like Lyanna a lot, with the light brown hair and dark piercing emerald eyes. She had some her mother's traits as well, with the high cheekbones and oval-shaped face. A _crossbreed, _once the butcher's boy called her and defended he was only commenting on her _unique beauty_. "But not as _crossed_ as your half brother Jon," he comforted her cheekily. Her mother had heard and shamed him in front of the whole village. Of course Eli had weeped, but only because she had lost a friend to secretly practice sword dancing with. She knew she was not a pretty face that destined to marry a high lord and have darling children, unlike her younger sister, Sansa. She wanted to be like Lyanna, a wondrous warrior, or Nymeria, the legendary Queen of Rhoynar (who she also named her direwolf after). A ruler would be nice, but she had no inheritance to the iron throne nor her homeland Winterfell, which had been ruled under the ancestor Starks of her father for thousands of years. Maester Luwin once told her about Varys the Enuch spider, who had been taken into King Robert's small council. "Low-born men could only survive by skills and wisdom," he sighed.

"But I have none of those," Eli looked down to her hands anxiously.

"Nonsense, child! You are Eliana Stark of Winterfell, the daughter of Eddard Stark and Winterfell. You are no low-born nor men. The northern wolf you are!" Maester Luwin looked into her eyes and argued, "soon you will marry to a High Lord and be protected by his almighty banners and sigils. Even if the winter comes you will survive. Even if the winter comes!"

"I'm not gentle nor charming," Eli replied thoughtfully, "if the High Lord were only forced to the bonding and did not love me, he would leave me in the warfares and end up in the Acorn Hall with whores and prostitutes."

"Child, do not say such things," Maester Luwin buried his head in his hands and said, "I am not getting any younger, you see. The old chilly winter had me suffer," he looked up to the grey cloudy skies and continued, "winter is coming and no one is safe." He paused as a brown-feathered raven soared across the Castles carrying a small scroll of letter.

"Do you think I am capible of surviving on my own?" Eli asked suddenly. Maester Luwin looked down to her and smiled, "nobody could survive on their own, only each others."

Eli sighed heavily and he continued, "Child, I see loads of potentials. You may not see this, but you are outstanding among all I have ever met." She looked up in surprise, this was the first time that she felt somebody outside the family actually paid attention to her. She had everything girls did not want, an ordinary look and a political status, the first-borned daughter, who had to carry the most amount of burden in a family. Marriage, Heir and Duty. "The eldest daughter has the _Blessings_," Septa Mordane had told her. _Blessings_, she had snorted sarcastically, _blessings my butt_. The memories dissipated immediatly as part of her started telling herself that Luwin was lying.

"There is nothing special in me. Well maybe, Jeyne Poole called me bizarre once." she smiled sadly.

"Dare she could say such things to you," Maester Luwin reprimanded and corrected her, "You are strong and wise. Yes, too smart for your own good. You will be a sneaky spy like _the_ _Spider_!" They both laughed out loud at the thought of the bold council member of the king. His laughters were dolce and euphonious, though his hair was as white as the snow on the roof.

"Always stick to your family, Eliana," he advised her.

Eli thought of her family all the time, even though they were always beside her. She thought of her father's dark grey hair and kind words. She loved listening to him talking about the Rebellion of the Baratheons and the Greyjoys, about the metaphor of winter, about the white walkers, about the kingslayer, about the deceased mad king and his dragons. Top of all, she loved Ned telling her story of Aunt Lyanna as she loved Master Ludwin telling the story of Queen Nymeria. And her lady mother, her beautiful lady mother. She thought of her auburn hair and vivid blue eyes, the most common Tully features. Her mother always came to her chamber to let Eli braid her hair and choose the finest fabric for her dresses and gowns. Eli adored sea blue silk as her mother adored emerald cotton. "It's the same color as your eyes," she had told her, "it's the blessing Inheritance of the Starks, so is your hair." And there were Robb, who had won every battle he had fought. Sometimes, he would take out his time to teach her about the tricks of warfares. He was brave and patience but reckless and quick-mouthed. Though Jon was her half brother, but she loved him as much as she loved Robb, sometimes even more. He always mussed her hair and called her his _little sister. _And Sansa, sweet and naive, beautiful and gentle. Eli favored her. She taught her every high-born ladies'courtsey and sang her every song she loved. They were tight and close. Last but not least, Bran and Rickon, her little warriors. She would kiss their cheeks and let them show her their new muscles. They brought her hope, and they were as wild as their wolves.

Eli was afraid of losing them. She was so afraid that sometimes she would cry to sleep at the thought of it. They would never leave me, she thought, I would protect them and keep them safe.

Later on, Maester Luwin taught her more about the politics of the kingdom of Westero and the last Targaryen children, as her hand maiden, Wylla Manderly, called her to get ready to the feast with the royal family.

* * *

The feast for King Robert's arrival was short and brief. He greeted them with warmth, as the Lannisters welcomed them with disdain and distaste. The King was not as handsome and fierce as her father had described. He was only a fat, red-faced man under his bushy beard, but Eliana has always admired him. He had told her how she resembled to her aunt. She only smiled back and complimented him on his bravery. "Ha! You have a mouth of wit," the King replied, "and a pretty one, too." She was confused and hoped the last remark was for her sister, Sansa.

She also greeted the Queen Cersie, who was wearing a golden silk dress, though not as radiant as her golden hair, and a fox-fur coat. And her twin brother, Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer, whose hair was as smooth as the waterfall. She wondered how he could consider himself a knight if he killed the king that he had served. She tried to resist her laughters when she saw Sansa blushing as the "Knight" kissed her hand. She had enjoyed Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen's companies much more than their brother, Joffery, who had the disdainful look as his mother. He had the golden hair and light green eyes. _He looked like a girl_, Eli thought. The older prince was quite hostile to her brother, Robb, but only put on his best smile when she and Sansa approached. _What a hypocrite_. Among the excited crowd, she spotted the Hound, who was wearing a sliver helmet. She had heard about his legendary scar that his brother had left him. _Fire was his weakness_, they had told her. She was quite disappointed that she didn't get a chance to meet the Imp, Tyrion Lannister, the youngest Lannister and the dwarf. She had heard much about him and his wise remarks.

At the end of the feast, her father told her about a marriage proposal between Sansa and Joffery hinted by the King himself. Apparently, he demanded a house alliance between the Starks and the Baratheons. "Why Sansa?" she asked. "That was what the King wanted," she could hear the graveness in his voice, "we must obey, Eliana. The family will leave for King's Landing soon." She couldn't help but felt relief and sorry for her sister, Sansa, who seemed rather cheerful.

"The sweet and valiant prince," Sansa said and took the leash off her direwolf, Lady, "he told me I was very beautiful the other day. I will gave him sons just as valiant as he is. What do you think, my good sister?"

"I'm sure he will make be a good king like his father and you will be a glorious Queen someday." Eli replied without thinking. "But I do not want to leave Winterfell," she said sadly and looked down to her hands. She wanted to be in the North with Luwin, Hodor, Wylla, Rodrick and more.

"But don't you want to see those beautiful candles lighting in the dark, and the latterns?" Sansa asked surprisingly, "They would be like those in the songs we sing." Eli did. She wanted to see the Iron Throne more the anything, but family always came first just like her father used to tell her. She didn't like the Queen or the Prince. She knew inside the deceitful masks were spirits of dark thirsted for power. She bit her lip and watched Nymeria and Lady chasing each other. _Winter was truly coming_, she thought. And the next morning, she was told that Bran had fell of the high tower and still remained unconcious.

* * *

She watched her mother and sister wept beside Bran's bed. Bran was pale and deadly. His lips were as white as his cheeks. There was no colour in his blood. Eliana had wept too, but in the Godswood praying and crying out for grace and mercy on his brother.

_There were no trouble like this before the Lannisters came_, she thought gravely. _He fell of the tower, a likely story_. Bran has always been a good climber. He had never stumbled on one rock since he had been able to walk. He had never failed. She watched maliciously outside the windows as Joffery tried to pick a fight with Robb.

Now she was in her chamber, packing up her dresses and gowns with the help of her direwolf. "Thank you, Nymeria," she nodded curtly as she received her gloves. Her wolf looked up to her with her big yellow eys and tilted her head in an adorable way, trying to make her smile. Eli ruffled her furs and kissed her little button-shaped nose, as somebody knocked on her door.

She opened and found Jon standing there, hands behind his back and giving her a wide smile. "Little sis," he greeted her.

She smiled back and said, "we'll be leaving in few days, only with Sansa and father since Bran's incident."

"Don't worry," Jon comforted, "You will have Nymeria with you."

She looked up and stared into his dark grey eyes, "but I will miss you."

Jon signed and answered as he sat onto the bed beside her, "Father appointed me to Night Watch, secure the North. Do not worry about me. I will make sure the White Walkers do not reach the King's landing." He joked.

Eli chuckled a bit. "Here, I will show you something," he said.

"A present?"

"Yes, a present," he replied as he showed her what was inside the package on her bed.

A sword, she saw and gasped. It was small and slender, suitable to her slight build and to practice "the Water Dance" she learned about from Robb. A sword, was what she always wanted. One more step to be a warrior.

"It was beautiful," she said as she held the sword tight in her hand and tried several dances Robb had taught her. "it was skinny. I will name it the Needle," she said thoughtfully. She had always resented the arts of needlework. It was so dull and boring.

"Skinny, just like you," Jon told her and laughed, "it was made by the Mikkens. Such beauty,used it well. Try not to stab the Prince."

They both spent the rest of the day together, cooing over the Needle. She remembered Jon holding her in his arms and swing her around. She would miss him so bad in King's Landing. She realized since her brothers and her mother were staying in Winterfell, part of her heart would too. She looked down at the sword in her hand, and wondered who would be the first victim of this beauty. _Maybe Joff_, she thought and grinned viciously. She wish she knew how to use it.

"Stick them with the pointy end," Eli remembered Jon had told her, before they left Winterfell.


	2. Game of Thrones POV 2

Chapter 17 Eliana

To Eliana Stark, the capital was the most intriguing place she has ever been. Despite her distaste for the over-luxurized goods in the castles, she had enjoyed the ride on the chariot. With her father's permission, she and Sansa went to the market that Queen Cersei had told them about and picked up some southern-styled gowns that proper ladies would wear in the capital, under Septa Mordane and Jory's surveillance. Eli had hoped that she could go out freely without any guards, but Cersei warned them about the beggars on the abandoned street. She said that they could give them some bread if they came near, but the Queen laughed and said, "they are not as kind as you are, little wolf." _They will be if you are_, she thought, _maybe you are too aversive for them_. Eli's suspicions to the Queen have never dissipated since they arrived in the King's Landing, just as her solicitude for Winterfell and her concern for Bran have never disappeared.

The weather was very stunning that day. They had visited the memorial keeps for the past kings who had ever sat on the Iron Throne. The statues and monuments were twice the size of a northern giant. The keeps were painted in an earthy colour and the walls were full of sculptures and portraits. Some of them were quite horrendous. The history was fascinating and was narrated by an old high lord, reminded her of Maester Luwin. Eliana was accompanied Princess Myrcella, much to her delight. And to her dismay, Joffery had not showed up to accompany Sansa, who was at first disappointed. "He has much to prepare for his newly betrothed, Lady Sansa," his sister told them. _I guess that history was too dull for the air-headed prince_, she thought ironically.

The guards had led them to their appointed chambers with father. They were not much different form those in the north, except bigger and more summery. They had also informed them about the feast King Robert held near the Great River two days later. The girls were both excited and took a whole lot of time to pick up new gowns for the event. But much to her own despise, she was not feeling well enough to attend. "Did the butcher's boy rub on you with his plague?" Jory asked her jokingly. At the corner of her eyes, Sansa moved hesitantly away from her.

She had gone riding with Jory along the Great River a few days ago. She had collected some purple flowers and rubies for her father, who has a tough time settling down as well. In the stabler, she had met Mycha, the butcher's son. He was round-faced and freckled. He had ginger hair that was lighter than her mother and sister's. They were arguing furiously about the arts of sword dancing. "How could you know so much about sword fighting if you are a high-born lady?" he remarked.

"Princess to be exact," she smirked and answered, "since my sister is going to be married to the prince."

Mycha gave her a bow in fear and respect dramatically. Jory interjected, "watch it boy! You will be a headless man if you continues in this manners." They both had chuckled. Mycha had told her that he was sneaking out to practice swords with a friend along the northern side of the river after the royal feast. She was very delighted and intrigued to learn, so she accepted his offer behind Jory's back.

Now, she was lying on the bad, feeling worthless and gruesome. "Mycha doesn't have any plague on him, Jory." she said dryly. _But you will never know_, a voice in her head said. "There is nothing serious, just have to adjust to the capital's weather. That's all." she told the Queen, who had visited to visit her. "I'm glad," she replied. Eli could hear the deceitfulness in her voice that was so soft and gentle that nobody would suspect anything but admire her beauty. "I certainly hope that you could come to the feast," she said at last. Eli gave her a bow and the Queen left. She haven't told anyone her doubts to the Queen, because no one would believe and still, part of her was hoping she was wrong.

The feast was fantastic and she didn't regret dragging herself to it light-headed. The southern food was fancy, though she had little stomach for it. Many high lords and ladies were there. They had came to compliment her beautiful blue velvet dress with golden floral patterns to it that she had decided to wear. That was enough to make her happy. Plus, she had been successful at avoiding the royal families, the Lannisters and the Baratheons. Also, Joff was nowhere to be found. Septa Mordane has suddenly became a pleasant company. At the closing of the feast, she excused herself for a small headache, forgetting her sword practice with Mycha. "Go get some rest, child," said the kind and caring Septa, "the journey was tiring enough. And I will go find you sister now."

Eli gave her a curt nod and stood up to leave. She walked past some giggling maidens who was gossiping about some flower knights, which made her smirk. Then she ran into the Hound, who returned her a cold glance. _A dog never smiles, _she thought foolishly. Behind him, she saw a bold, fat man wearing an earthy-coloured robe with golden grassy patterns to it. The sleeves of the robe were long enough to hind his hands. The edge of his lips curled up a bit, when she approached. It was_ the Spider_.

"Lord Varys," she greeted respectfully.

"My lady Eliana," Varys gave her a small bow, "I have heard about your unwellness, and I have genuinely hoped that you will be well soon."

"Thank you, my lord," she replied, embarrassed by her physical unadjustment, "I have hoped that everything is well with the small council and the King, too?"

Varys left out a chuckle and walked her into the Red Keep, answered, "the small council has been fighting frequently, since the death of the former hand of the King, Jon Arryn." He paused for a moment and added, "also with your father's arrival. He didn't _get along _well with others. There has been some disagreement on certain matters. "

Eli turned to face him in surprise and mumbled thoughtfully, "my father has been arguing with the small council. He shouldn't, I mean..." He really shouldn't, she thought, the small council was full of vicious and plotting politicians that craved for power. That could have cost her father's life. She wouldn't be surprised if Jon Arryn was actually murdered by one of them. She might need to warn her father, she thought.

"All I mean to say is," she added quickly, "sometimes silence is better than all." Varys looked at her up and down with a small smile.

"I agree, my lady," he said, "silence might be a virtue just like patience."

She nodded and was delighted that her thoughts were granted by a wise man. "But, don't worry, child," he continued, "your father was just speaking the truth, that is all."

The truth of what? She couldn't help but wondered. The truth, something familiar started ringing at her ears. Soon, she found herself at the door of her chamber. "The truth might get you killed, since everybody hated it," she shrugged and repeated what Maester Luwin had once told her, not aware that she has said it out loud. She smiled sheepishly at the sudden of realization. Varys, who looked at her in surprise, and his smile widened.

"I see rare wisdom in you, my lady," he remarked, "both darkness and light coming out of the mouth of a babe." He bid her goodbye and told her that they would talk again soon.

* * *

Eliana had gone to sleep, soon she entered her chamber. She tried to clear up her mind, not worrying about Nymeria and Sansa's whereabouts, nor her father's argument with the small council, nor the exciting little talk with Varys. She closed her eyes. Nothing but black was in front of her, but suddenly it turned into colours. _S__cenery_, to be exact. She was certain her eyelids were tightly closed. This must be a dream, she thought.

In the dream, she felt she grew shorter, much shorter, maybe only taller than Rickon a bit. Looking around, she saw the giggling maidens she had passed by. She let out a growl and kept marching on. She saw Princess Mrycella passing by with some guards. When she saw her, Mrycella fearfully turned around and let out a scream, so the guards shooed her away. _Why was she so afraid of me?_ Eli wondered. She also saw Lady, who was tied to a pole. She wondered why Lady was here and where Sansa was. The Lady sniffed happily at her. She continue to march out along the Great River. Suddenly, she saw her reflection in the crystal-cleared water. _A direwolf_, she saw. _I am a wolf_. Then she saw the big yellow eyes in the reflection. _I'm Nymeria, I'm in her body. _She jumped around and tried to catch her tail like Nymeria always did. _There were so many things that I could do_, she thought cheerfully. She was loving her dream.

Not too far away from her, she saw a red dot. Approaching carefully not wanting to get in any trouble, she saw Sansa and the Prince who was riding along the river. Worrying about her sister's well-being, she decided to follow them quietly. They rode past the historical Great Bridge and the bush of purple flowers Eli always loved. She waited behind the bush and heard a familiar voice. "Ha, I have won this round!" It said. It was Mycha's voice, she recognized. Then she saw her ginger-headed friend was practicing sword with his friend, the stable's boy. She saw the prince got off the horse and drew closer to her friend. "My lord," Mycha greeted fearfully.

"Who are you, boy?" Joffery asked aggressively.

"I'm your butcher's son, my lord." Mycha mumbled.

"A butcher's boy, wanting to be a knight, huh?" Joffery said mockingly. Eli stepped out of the bush, fearing what the prince was going to do to them. She saw Sansa watching them all in confusion under the tree. "Now pick up your sword," Joffery demanded, "We will see how good you two are."

Mycha and his friend stared at the royal prince reluctantly, not knowing what to do.

"Pick up the sword, I said," Joffery shouted and drew out his sword, approaching them slowly.

She saw Sansa stood there watching them in fear. She could feel her own heart beats in her chest. How could the prince do that to common folks' sons? she thought. They were not trained nor armed, and they were only using wooden swords. She stepped a little closer.

She watched as Joffery became impatient. He stepped to Mycha's motionless body and raised his sword to his cheeks. Blood came out of Mycha's cheek like a spring of water. A sudden anger she had felt in her chest was growing stronger and stronger. _He was hurting Mycha_, she thought, _Mycha was my friend_. She watched Sansa froze and shivered. She needed to help. Without thinking and overtaking by the anger, she ran up and leaped at Joffery's right hand. She bit into it as hard as she could, until he threw away the sword from Mycha. She heard Sansa's screams and Joffery's whining cries and she finally released him. She watched Mycha and his friend quickly ran away, leaving Joffery and his wounded hand with her poor sister.

She could taste the prince's blood in her mouth, so salty and bitter. It was real, she thought, it was not a dream. She could feel the blood dripping down the edge of her lips. She was in astonishment. She was horrified. She quickly turned around and ran away from them. The last thing she saw was her sister helping the prince up to his horse. She ran as fast as she could. This is not happening, she hoped. It was just a dream, she hoped.

Suddenly, Eliana woke up and gasped rapidly for air. A pair of big yellow eyes were staring at her. In front of her, was her direwolf Nymeria, with blood at the corner of her mouth.


End file.
